


Stolen Away

by eurydice72



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 06:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurydice72/pseuds/eurydice72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Morgana snatches Gwen, Arthur will do whatever it takes to get her back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen Away

He left in the dead of night, because he didn’t trust Merlin or any of the knights to allow him to go unimpeded. He wouldn’t have risked taking a horse at all if he could’ve reached the meeting place in the space of a few hours, but the spot Morgana had chosen was beyond the forest, to the streams they had swam in as children. Her instructions had been explicit. If he wanted Gwen, he was to come alone.

In spite of everything that had transpired between them, he had to trust Morgana was a woman of her word. And he had to act in the same manner, or risk losing Gwen forever.

The pound, pound, pound of the hoofbeats against the spring-softened earth echoed in the thud of his heart. If he was honest, his heart—or really anything—had not been normal since that awful night Gwen failed to come to his chambers. They’d been so careful about their assignations, primarily because he did not want Camelot or the court to see her as a courtesan rather than their future queen, and so he’d momentarily assumed she couldn’t escape unseen. But when he decided to go to her instead, he’d found an empty house and that dreadful note from Morgana, mocking his lack of guards on the woman he supposedly loved. Though they tore apart the kingdom, Gwen was nowhere to be found.

His fault. All of it. No matter what Merlin might say. He was the one who kept harboring hope Morgana would give up this needless feud. He was the one who’d left Gwen so unprotected. It was his responsibility to fix it, the consequences be damned.

A light rain started to fall as he cleared the edge of the forest, but he barely felt the cold water dripping down the back of his neck. The chill was less than nothing compared to the hollowness Gwen’s absence had carved out in his heart. Until the second note arrived, he’d charged through the days and nights in search of her, ignoring the worried looks and the concerned comments that came at him from all angles. Few understood. His advisors kept bringing up mindless business to distract him. Gaius tried getting him to take a sleeping draught. Even Merlin argued he wouldn’t do Gwen any good if he collapsed, but none of it mattered because Gwen was still gone, every minute that passed his world that much darker.

As he crested the knoll overlooking the streams, the patter of droplets hitting the water’s surface picked up the reverberations of his pulse. He reined in his horse, peering through the murky darkness, but the night was too effective a shroud. All he could make out was the black ribbons of water slicing through the ground.

“Morgana!”

His voice rasped from disuse. It had been days since he’d strung more than a few words together, longer since than they’d been anything but barked orders. Even the rain drowned him out, and he cleared his throat to try again.

This time, desperation sharpened his tone to cut it through the rising wind. But if she was there to hear him, she gave no response.

Sliding from his perch, he looped the reins around a nearby stump, all the while scanning the vicinity for any sign of her. His stomach churned. The few bites of dinner he’d managed to get down burned a path back into his gullet, ready to be expelled. He gritted his teeth against the sourness and crept toward the edge of the nearest stream, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, just in case.

“I’ve come alone. I’ve done exactly as you asked. So face me, Morgana. Tell me where Gwen is.”

A woman’s laughter drifted from over his shoulder. Arthur whipped around, drawing his sword at the same time, only to be met by the yawning darkness.

“You think this is a game?” His gaze never stopped moving, seeking out every shadow in hopes of ferreting her location. “What more could you possibly want from me? You already have Gwen. She is everything.”

He feared he knew the answer to that particular question already, but still, Morgana didn’t appear. Frustration chipped away at his patience, and his steps grew agitated, shortening and quickening as he prowled along the bank. What if this was another ruse? What if he’d been wrong all along and Merlin and the others had been right? What if—

And then he saw it, a flutter of movement closer to the line of trees. Keeping his sword drawn, he headed for it, his heart lodging in his throat when more flickers revealed a dress caught in the wind, flapping wetly around the form of a bound woman against a tree.

“Gwen!”

He raced toward her. At last, at last, and she filled his vision, all he wanted to see even though it tore him up to notice how tight the ropes were, how much the gag she wore cut into her cheeks. Her eyes went wide at the sight of him, but rather than joy, fear filled her gaze, and she began shaking her head violently, unformed cries emanating from her throat.

“It’s all right,” he soothed as he came before her. “I’ve come to take you home.” He reached for the gag, frowning at the way she tried to twist her head out of his reach. “Is it Morgana? Do you—”

“Don’t, it’s a—” 

The rest of her words disappeared at the graze of his fingertips over her wet cheeks. As he stood there, helpless, the familiar tawny glow of her skin turned to a mottled gray, the softness replaced by unyielding stone. Even her dress solidified, the folds of her skirt forever trapped in their dance.

He forgot the rain, and the wind, and the cold seeping into his bones. It was a trick, it had to be, magic meant to torment him. She was a part of him and always would be. Morgana’s magic had never been capable of destroying his love. No matter how many times she tried.

His fingers worked of their own accord, first to pull the gag free, then to slice through the ropes binding Gwen’s motionless form to the trunk. Sightless eyes stared at the heavens when he caught her from crashing, while a piece of parchment fluttered from her stone hands.

He pocketed it without reading it. This was not the time for another of Morgana’s notes. He had a long journey ahead of him if he hoped to get Gwen back to Camelot.

Magic had stolen her away from him the moment he touched her. If it took until his dying breath to do so, he would find the magic to bring her back.


End file.
